


Lullaby for a Stormy Night

by mizzshy



Series: Jearmin week 2018 [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Holding Hands, Jearmin week 2018, M/M, Minor Injuries, Singing, Survival, Thunder and Lightning, Thunderstorms, post-Clash of the Titans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 03:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14252439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizzshy/pseuds/mizzshy
Summary: With Jean injured and the two of them left behind after the expedition to deal with the Armoured and Colossal Titans, Armin has to find a way to keep them both alive and make sure they can get back safely. [Jearmin week 2018]





	Lullaby for a Stormy Night

**Author's Note:**

> Day two and the prompt is 'survival'! This takes place after the Clash of the Titans arc in the anime - with the slight deviation from the canon where Armin and Jean are separated from everyone else and don't make it back with them. This fic takes inspiration from the Vienna Teng song [Lullaby for a Stormy Night](https://youtu.be/mlmhMS_luX8).

After the craziness with Eren's screaming and the titans turning on and devouring one another, it's a mad scramble to get back within the walls and things inevitably get confused. For the most part, it's the small things that get left behind – packs and occasional pieces of equipment, nothing compared to the lives confirmed lost and MIA soldiers – but when the reports come in, there are two names unaccounted for that give everyone pause. The last anyone saw of either Jean or Armin is hotly debated. Connie insists they were there during the “big showdown” (as he puts it) but Mikasa doesn't recall seeing either of them since long before that. Eren spends hours staring despondently out of the window, as though the two will come into view over the horizon at any moment, but everyone else mutters darkly or gets their heads down to get on with their work, sure that the both of them are just numbers now.

Beyond the walls, Armin is determined that they won't become numbers. He peers out from under the tent flap yet again, seeing that the coast is still clear, before sinking back into a sit on the ground again. When he checks, Jean's chest rises and falls steadily; it's comforting to be able to see and brings a tentative smile to Armin's face. It's only been a day and a night so far but he really hopes Jean will wake up soon. With only one horse between them (and Armin's admittedly smaller size), he knows they'll both need to be conscious to get back safely. He found a tent in an abandoned pack and set it up, and getting Jean into it took almost everything Armin had. Earlier, he ate some dried cured meat from the pack and has been routinely wetting Jean's lips with a cloth soaked in clean water. Part of him wonders if someone might come to look for them, but realistically he knows the Corps can't put aside resources like that just for them. As far as he knows, they're on their own.

Hours pass and Armin keeps one eye on their surroundings and the other on Jean, going outside to check on the horse and the horizon regularly and getting back in the tent again afterwards. As night draws in and the temperature drops, Armin draws his cloak closer around himself and tucks the corners of Jean's cloak in around his shoulders. The first drops of rain thunk heavily on the tent canvas and Armin hears the horse move under the shelter of the trees as heavy, distant thunder rolls through the sky. Soon, the rain is upon them in earnest and the lightning and thunder have drawn closer. Armin wets Jean's lips with the cloth once more and counts the seconds between lightning and thunder to gauge the distance. It seems to be keeping something of a distance but the silence within the tent starts to feel strangely eerie to Armin as he sits down again. Quietly he clears his throat before a melody comes into his mouth, coming up for air from the deepest depths of his heart. His voice is soft and solitary, but he sings the familiar words to himself as he watches the valley light up with bright flashes of white lightning and listens to the dissonant groan of the thunder.

“Armin?”

Armin stops short, turning to look over his shoulder at Jean, who slowly sits up, leaning back on his elbows. He gazes around himself before looking at Armin quizzically.

“Where are we?” he asks.

“Beyond the walls,” replies Armin. Jean's eyes widen momentarily and he tries to sit up further, but then he hisses and sinks back down. “You okay?”

Jean nods, running a hand over his chest. “Might be a cracked rib – I'm not sure. Do you have water?”

Leaning sideways, Armin grabs a waterskin and hands it to Jean, who takes a few sips.

“How long have we been here?” Jean asks.

“This is the second night,” explains Armin. “How much do you remember?”

A frown creases Jean's features as he thinks. “I remember being on my horse and then coming off it. The Armoured Ti- Reiner... What happened?”

Armin shakes his head. “I'm not sure,” he admits. “Everything happened really fast and we were so far away from everyone else but there was a titan and I couldn't leave you...” He remembers flailing wildly with his sword and the desperate fear that pulsed through him as the titan grew closer, seeming to taunt him, all while Jean slumped in his arms. A shiver goes through him and he pulls his cloak around himself again. “Then there was this screeching and all the titans ran towards it. I don't know what happened but they've left us alone since.”

“The others left without us?” asks Jean.

“I guess so,” says Armin. “I couldn't get you on the horse so I figured it was best to just wait it out.”

Jean cocks his head. “You waited for _me_?”

Something about the phrasing – yes, that must be it – makes Armin pause briefly before nodding. He's grateful for the dimness that surrounds them; his face feels warm as a little smile graces Jean's lips.

“Thanks,” Jean says – Armin does his best to return the smile.

They fall silent, the rain pounding hard on the canvas above them and thunder and lightning splitting the sky. Hopefully – if Jean is feeling strong enough – they can set off at first light. Armin begins to contemplate trying to (finally) get some sleep now that he knows Jean is okay, though part of him is still cautious – what if Jean has a concussion?

“Hey Armin?” asks Jean. Armin looks at him, raising one eyebrow. “Were you singing? Just before I mean?”

Armin feels his face heat up again but nods. “Sorry, the song came into my head.”

“Don't apologise,” says Jean. “I just wasn't sure if it was real or I was dreaming.”

Unsure what to say to that, Armin stays quiet.

“What was the song?” Jean asks.

Armin curls up, tucking his legs in and swathing himself completely in his cloak. “It's a song my mother used to sing when I was little and the thunderstorms scared me.”

He chances a glance at Jean, seeing him nodding, no judgement in his face. “You still remember it?”

“I remember it every time it rains,” admits Armin.

“That's nice,” says Jean. A breeze picks up, moving the tent flaps, and Armin shudders with the chill. Jean shuffles a little, nodding to him again. “Come here.”

Armin hesitates, stomach twisting, unsure why he doesn't go straight over. When the wind blows again, however, he crawls over next to Jean. He intends to stay sitting up but then Jean puts a hand on his back.

“You're still shivering,” Jean says. “Come here.”

Armin swallows, trying not to think about it too hard before he lies down beside Jean and they spread both their cloaks over themselves. Jean's body is warm against Armin's flank as they lie side by side, gazing up at the tent canvas.

“Thank you again,” says Jean. “I'm sure you're not the only one who would have saved me but I... I'm glad it was you.”

Armin is certain his face is a glowing beacon by now, but he nods. “You're welcome.”

“Could you maybe sing again?” asks Jean.

It starts off quiet and tentative, Armin's voice wavering slightly as he tunes himself, but grows slowly surer and more confident as he goes on. He remembers his parents – the rough feel of his father's shirt and the way his mother's smile would dimple on one side. The sound of the storm seems to dim slightly: in the warm darkness Armin can almost imagine they're not lying in a tent far from safety and completely vulnerable. When Jean's hand slips into his he doesn't even have the energy to feel at all flustered and they drift off to sleep together in their strange little sanctuary.

 


End file.
